


Etude No. 1

by H_K_Rissing



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H_K_Rissing/pseuds/H_K_Rissing
Summary: In which Alina balances the demands of being in a world-renowned university orchestra program with trying to keep her sanity. This is an endeavor that is not helped by the presence of her ex-boyfriend, the handsome concertmaster, and a too-clever trumpet player.





	1. The Summer: Crescendo

**Author's Note:**

> Boccherini- Sonata for Violin and Cello in D Major  
> Tchaikovsky- Symphony No. 6 in B Minor, ‘Pathetique’ Op. 74

Alina hissed a hasty curse as she muddied her way through yet another run of sixteenth notes.  
“Stop.” Aleksander snapped, his voice commanding even in the acoustically dead practice room. One botched run, he could ignore, but two in a row necessitated a pause. 

“Alina. Remind me of when the summer competition is.” He ordered, leaning back in his chair, violin resting delicately against his leg.  
Alina gave the strings of her cello a stony glare. They both knew goddamn well when the competition was.  
“Remind me.” He repeated, more forcefully this time.  
“Next Friday,” Alina ground out sullenly.  
“Thank you. So knowing that one of the biggest competitions of the year, the event we have been hand-chosen by the director to compete in because she believes we are among the most capable of showcasing the best of what this conservatory has to offer, is a week away, why are you still missing runs?” Aleksander asked, voice remaining pleasant until the very end. 

Alina had to bite her tongue to keep back the torrent she wanted to let fly. She had to actually practice the pieces the orchestra would be performing in the large group portion of the competition, since those were challenging enough on their own. She had depth elective classes with actual responsibilities even though it was the summer because if she lost her academic scholarship, her music scholarship wouldn’t be enough to save her and she would have to leave the school and work in retail to keep from starving to death. She was trapped here with him, practicing at 9pm on a Friday night, as she had been since rehearsal let out at 5, and had she complained once even though her hand was cramped and her back was sore and the thick black swarms of notes were starting to swim across the page? Of course, she reminded herself dourly, it wasn’t like she had plans or anything, since the icing on the cake of her shitty, stressful summer was her week-old, incredibly messy breakup with her boyfriend, longtime best friend, and principal percussionist of the orchestra, Mal Oretsev. 

“Sorry I’m not as perfect as you,” she eventually muttered, as it was clear Aleksander wasn’t going to move on until she responded. She was only a rising junior, whereas he was a rising senior and set to be concertmaster for the third consecutive year. It wasn’t fair that he was picking at her for the allegro when both the vivace and grave were damn near flawless, because she’d spent more time beating them into her fingers over the course of the past few weeks. When the director informed everyone of her decisions at the start of the summer semester on who would be representing their program in the solos and small groups portion, Alina hadn’t been paying close attention, since she hadn’t expected to be chosen at all. So when her name was called out to duet with Aleksander Morozova, the director’s personal protege, to say she’d been startled would be a gross understatement. Anyone who was tapped to participate individually in the summer competition was marked out for solos, section features, and higher chair placements, which meant better parts, in the coming fall season. That wasn’t even getting into all the unofficial perks, like access to better practice rooms and advanced knowledge of piece selections. The summer competition could be the making or breaking of a student’s entire career, which was why it was assumed that everyone would “choose” to take classes in order to be in the orchestra during the summer season. Ordinarily only rising seniors were chosen for the competition. Aleksander, of course, had been the most notable exception of late, since he was sickeningly perfect in every way. Until Alina herself. 

“You were not chosen by accident. It was not a mistake. You are fully capable of playing this perfectly. I know because I’ve heard you do it. You’re just not focusing.” he continued, that bite of steel slipping back into his voice.  
“My fingers hurt. My calluses have calluses. I’m exhausted because I was up late last night working on the Tchaikovsky. I’m hungry because I didn’t have time for lunch before rehearsal. So you’re right, I’m finding it a little hard to focus right now.” Alina lashed out. She regretted the words the second they were out of her mouth- as both concertmaster and Dr. Sokolova’s private lessons student, all Aleksander had to do was say one bad thing about her and she could kiss her aspirations goodbye. Dueting with him was, after all, something most girls in the orchestra would’ve gladly given an eye or a leg for, since his musicianship was unparalleled but his looks were even better. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry for being hard on you.” Aleksander conceded after a short pause. He fished his phone out of his bag and gave her a small, guilty grin, saying, “I didn’t realize how late it was.”  
“Let’s pack up, we can start from here tomorrow afternoon, if you’re free.” He offered, and Alina quickly agreed, since she would’ve agreed to just about anything if it meant escaping to care for her throbbing hands.  
They each carefully packed away their instruments, scores, and music books in silence. 

“All the dining halls will be closed by now,” Aleksander remarked in what if Alina didn’t know better she’d say was a regretful tone as he shut and locked the practice room door behind them.  
Alina shrugged. “I’ll probably just have a granola bar in my room.”  
“No, I’m the reason you had to miss. Let me buy you dinner,” Aleksander implored in a way that sounded curiously like a command, and wasn’t this a turn of events. Aleksander had not seemed the least bit interested in getting to know her outside of the practice room since they’d been paired on this duet, which wasn’t entirely surprising since if Alina had had to guess she would’ve put money on his having been wholly unaware of her existence as a person outside of rehearsal prior to her being chosen. 

“Sure,” Alina agreed readily enough, since she wasn’t about to turn down a hot meal that she didn’t have to pay for. His resulting smile was as soft as a late summer sunset, and damn, Alina could see why every girl was always jabbering on about how hot he was. One week previously she’d have sworn up and down that she was completely immune to whatever charms he might possess. That was what you did when you were in a relationship. No, she had to mentally correct herself, that was what decent, respectful, considerate adults did when they were in relationships. Which was evidently a higher bar than some people could clear. 

“I know a great ramen place right off campus, if you’d like?” he suggested. Alina hoped her shrug was nonchalant, since she could practically hear her stomach growling.  
“Great. I’m parked in the faculty lot,” He said, because of course he had a car and of course he had a pass to the much more conveniently placed faculty lot. He was smiling again and held the door out of the music building for her, which was a step more solicitude than she was used to expecting from anybody, including her now ex. As they stepped into the hot summer night the air swirled around them like a sauna, and Alina immediately regretted not having taken off more layers while they were still inside. The Lantsov Music Building was always frigid- if you dressed appropriately for the temperature outside and stayed in the Lantsov all day, you’d probably have frostbite by the end of it. Since she’d known when she went in for her theory class at 8am that morning that she wouldn’t be leaving until at the very least after rehearsal ended, she’d worn leggings and a tshirt as well as a sweater and a flannel, and now also with hauling her cello case around, which was almost as big as she was, she was going to be sweating super unattractively by the time they got to his car. 

Alina was sure closer in to the heart of campus there was probably some sort of sporting event, maybe parties, whatever else it was that normal college students did with their Friday nights. The arts side of the campus was still and silent except for the whirring of crickets. Surprisingly, Aleksander’s car wasn’t the last one in the lot. There were a few others that no doubt belonged to faculty still in their offices, taking advantage of the peace and quiet to work and, judging by the ghostly strain of a melody on the humid air, to practice. Under the floodlights of the parking lot Aleksander helped her load her cello into the trunk and even opened the car door for her, which weirded Alina out because she thought guys only did that in trashy YA fantasy books. 

The car was black, the interior luxurious, even smelling new. So clearly Aleksander didn’t know the struggle of needing to maintain scholarships. And so of course he probably had honor societies knocking down the door to bestow them on him. Once they were both sitting in the car, the silence between them seemed a lot more complete, and Alina felt a sudden spike of anxiety. She had no idea what to even say to him to start a conversation. But as the night went on, she realized she needn’t have worried. For someone blessed with an obnoxious amount of talent, beauty, and apparently also wealth, Aleksander was a surprisingly down to earth guy. They commiserated about classes and chair placement tests and the awful tea in the dining hall. He did a brilliant impression of her theory professor that made Alina almost choke on a mouthful of noodles. He was also a huge nerd, since he talked animatedly about a history class he was taking that covered the French Revolution for about five minutes straight. 

And of course they discussed music. It was so nice to talk with someone who really understood. Mal, a great connoisseur of rap, had always laughed and said it was super pretentious for her to talk about all the reasons pop music sucked, since all music had value because it reached people, which was true but also he’d cribbed it directly from their freshman year contemporary arranging and scoring class. She and Aleksander swapped numbers and each sent the other one playlist that they felt best summed up their musical tastes as of that moment. Alina could feel her cheeks coloring as she hit send- this playlist had a broad mix of stuff she was ok with sharing, like some alternative and indie and a smattering of classic rock, but it also had a heavy dose of feel-good showtunes that never failed to bring a smile to her face but were also unendurably cheesy. 

“So you’re dating one of the percussionists, right?” Aleksander asked as they left the dimly lit, cozy little restaurant to head back to his car.  
“I was until last week.” Alina responded brusquely.  
“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…” he apologized without sounding very sorry.  
“It’s no big deal, I just figured everybody knew by now.” Alina responded, very determinedly focusing on a bush at the other end of the parking lot.  
“Why would everybody know?” He asked once they were both seated and buckled and he’d begun navigating back towards campus.  
“Because I’m sure Zoya isn’t keeping it a secret.” she answered, not able to keep the bitterness from her voice. 

Zoya Nazyalensky was the first chair flute, and Alina hated instrument stereotypes, but Zoya exemplified a lot of them, as she was drop-dead gorgeous, twice as bitchy, and lived for the drama. When Alina had walked into Mal’s favorite practice room, expecting to sit in the corner and do some homework the way she usually did, she’d discovered Zoya and her boyfriend in the middle of a very torrid makeout session. Mortified and then pissed beyond words, Alina had stormed out to go immediately pack all of Mal’s shit up from where it was cluttering her room. They’d only spoken once since then, which was a terrible feeling in and of itself, since Alina hadn’t gone for longer than 24 hours without talking to Mal since she’d been in middle school, and it was when she gave him all his stuff back. He’d admitted that two-timing her with Zoya had been going on since June, and bleated some lame excuses about how she was just so stressed and so anxious all the time and that was really draining on him, and after that Alina had left because it was that or sit there and burst into very ugly tears. 

Aleksander let out a snort. “Zoya’s just jealous.” He responded dismissively, missing Alina’s incredulous glance as he turned across traffic.  
“And your ex is an idiot for not seeing that he’s just her pawn for getting at you,” He added as they parked in the student lot nearest the dorm. It was a requirement that all the students in the orchestra stay in campus housing, and they were all always assigned to the same building, the Keramzin Undergraduate Living Commons. Alina had used to think it was because KULC was closest to the Lantsov, and also so that nobody else on campus would have to deal with late night practice sessions, but she got now that it was just another way for Dr. Sokolova to control them, and another encouragement to forget about the outside world and devote yourself fully to the program. 

“So I’ll see you tomorrow, around one?” Aleksander asked as they let themselves into the lobby of the building, his pace slowing. Because of course he lived on the first floor, that was where Dr. Sokolova stashed the top performers, who got private rooms and everything.  
“Sounds good,” Alina affirmed, praying to all the saints that the elevator wasn’t broken because she really couldn’t handle the thought of lugging her cello up the steps to the second floor.  
“See you then,” he said, a stunning smile drifting across his face. Alina, flustered and more than a little self conscious, mustered an awkward wave as she beat a hasty retreat towards the elevators, which were mercifully working. 

Fortunately, when she got to the apartment she found her roommate was out. Genya had been her dearest friend (apart from Mal) since almost their first day of classes, and they often joked that they hadn’t so much made friends as Genya, a cheery extrovert, had adopted the much more introverted Alina. Genya was the principal horn player, and if Alina had to pick just one word to describe her, glamorous would probably come closest. Alina was sure she didn’t even own a pair of sweatpants, since the contents of her massive wardrobe were more often than not exploded across her room, along with enough makeup to meet the needs of an entire corps of ballerinas. Most of the apartment decor was hers, a riot of color from tapestries and framed posters and the slipcover she’d made for the couch as a final project in a fashion design elective she’d taken. Alina couldn’t count the number of times Genya had had just the thing she needed before a concert, whether it was a safety pin or a spare pair of heels or a hairstyle other than Alina’s usual no-fuss ponytail. She was enthusiastic and effervescent and always had the best gossip and Alina adored her but there were some times when she needed to just mouse around the apartment in silence. 

As soon as Alina had showered and changed into her pajamas, she popped some Aleve and began to slowly massage her hands and wrists with the expensive salve she’d bought herself at the start of the summer. The pungent scent of eucalyptus and citrus was almost immediately relaxing, since she’d gotten into the habit of doing this before going to sleep every night. She worked her way gingerly through some stretches and strengthening exercises, listening to Aleksander’s playlist. For a guy in one of the finest classical music programs in the country, he was very into disco, Russian folk music, and EDM. She didn’t feel so bad about the showtunes as yet another KC and the Sunshine Band track came up. 

The best part about planning what she’d ask him about his musical tastes the next day was that it kept her from missing Mal. She’d been spending nights tossing and turning, physically exhausted but too wired to shut down, not just about Mal but also all the extra stress she was carrying. But tonight, a lullaby that sounded like it was in Russian put her right out before she even had time to form a thought to worry about.


	2. The Summer: Accelerando

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strauss- Der Fledermaus, Overture  
> Earth, Wind & Fire- In the Stone  
> Brahms- Waltz in A Flat Major, Op. 39: No. 15

Every Monday morning, Alina and Genya got coffee at one of the nearby cafes. They’d started it in their sophomore year, when Genya had asked Alina to physically drag her from the bed if she had to in order to ensure they each made it to their 8am classes on time. Alina had quickly figured out incentivizing her with fancy coffee was much more effective, since the cafe was too nice to frequent every day but they did have really great blonde espresso. 

This morning was no different, and as they stood in line trying not to look at the freshly filled bakery case, they caught each other up on what their coming weeks looked like.  
Genya shrugged, managing to make the single physical gesture Alina performed most often seem like an elegant piece of performance art. “Oh, same old, same old. Another assignment that wasn’t on the syllabus due for seminar on Wednesday. Trying to find the will not to kill myself in theory, especially since all the readings for today went in one ear and out the other,”  
Alina agreed emphatically- their music theory textbook had to have been written by the most pompous and boring human being to ever walk the planet, which must’ve been why their professor liked it so much. 

“So I know you’ve got a lot of extra practices scheduled for this week- how are you feeling for Friday?” Genya asked as they stood waiting for their massive coffees.  
“Actually, pretty good,” Alina responded, just as surprised as Genya by her more positive take. Alina was usually a lot more pessimistic.  
“And could all those cozy extra practice sessions with the hottest hottie who ever hotted have something to do with this new optimism?” Genya asked gleefully, waggling her eyebrows like a vaudeville villain. 

“It happens that Aleksander is a really great musician, and we made a lot of progress over the weekend,” Alina started with great dignity, gathering from the way Genya was trying and failing to keep smile off her face that she was blushing. She and Aleksander had spent 19 hours in each other’s company over the weekend. Most of it had been spent rehearsing, but after their dinner together a new rapport had sprung up between them. They talked about the meanings they were trying to convey with each passage Alina had trouble with, instead of him just sniping at her for her fingerings, though he definitely did still like getting in a good nitpick. They teased each other about the songs in their playlists, and laughed about how surely they’d each catching massive colds just in time for Friday from shocking their systems with staying in the freezing Lantsov all day and then stepping foot into the baking outside world. It was intoxicating, being with him. He could still be brusque, and demanding, but sometimes she’d catch him watching her as she played, with what if she wasn’t mistaken was a hungry look in his eyes. She felt better around him- more confident, more witty, more daring- than she had in a long time. 

“And also he’s super hot, and funny, and always says like weirdly supportive stuff? And he sent me a playlist and we’ve gotten dinner together every night for the past three nights, and-” Alina poured out as they left the cafe, drinks in hand, before being cut off by Genya dramatically indicating for her to halt.  
“What??” Genya shrieked once she’d swallowed her mouthful of cold brew coffee, the foam on her upper lip looking less like a moustache and more like a deliberate fashion accessory, because such was Genya’s power. 

“Tell me everything!” she enthused, seizing Alina’s arm, golden eyes sparkling with delight.  
“Was it like a ‘we both need to eat and here’s the dining hall so let’s go together by the way here’s a playlist with some recordings of our piece’ kind of thing? I need details immediately I cannot believe you haven’t been live blogging this all for me to live vicariously through,” Genya rattled off, almost bouncing next to Alina. 

“I mean we’ve gone off campus each time and he always insists on paying, so-” Alina began before being cut off by Genya’s triumphant squeal.  
“Do you mean to tell me that you have gone on three dates with Aleksander Morozova and didn’t even tell me? I’ve been waiting for this to happen all summer, you are the pinnacle of dropping the zero and getting with a hero’!” Genya crowed. 

“No, wait, hold on, those weren’t dates,” Alina clarified. “And to be fair, I was ditched by the zero and I’m pretty sure the hero is literally just being a decent human being. It would be massively fucked up to start a relationship with my partner right before the competition.”  
“Ok, so Friday night, then,” Genya suggested, still brimming with smugness. She had always been polite to Mal, and respectful of his long friendship with Alina, but she had nevertheless always been very clear that she felt Alina could do better. 

“You are the _literal_ worst!” Alina exclaimed, swatting her friends arm. “I just broke up with my boyfriend of 3 years a week ago, I am definitely not ready to throw myself at a guy who could date any student and probably most of the faculty in this school, who also by the way could destroy my career with one conversation. That is way too much pressure.”  
“I never said anything about throwing yourself at him, since he seems to be picking up whatever you’re putting down already. I just think that you should take this incredibly exciting opportunity and hook up with him,” Genya explained patiently. 

Alina shook her head as if to dismiss the thought. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin trying to have a friends with benefits situation with him.” She admitted.  
“And see, this is exactly what I was fucking telling you about why Mal was no good for you, he was like a oversized hoodie that’s so comfortable you don’t want to take it off, and you forget how much fun it can be to wear a little black dress. What’s life without doing something a little naughty?” Genya said severely.  
“So in this situation, hooking up with Aleksander is the little black dress,” Alina asked lightly, amused by the statement. 

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m trying to force you into anything. But you’ve smiled more while talking about him for the last 5 minutes than you did when you were talking about Mal for the last 5 months. All I’m saying is I think you could benefit from trying something new now that you’re free of that mess, and apparently if he’s taking you off campus and paying for your meals and sending you playlists, doubtless full of love songs-”  
“-He listens to so much Earth Wind + Fire, it’s atrocious-” Alina interjected  
“If he’s doing all that, that’s way more interest than he’s shown in someone at this school for a long time, so it seems to me he’d be down for it if you were,” Genya concluded, a self-congratulatory smile on her face. 

“I still think you’re making way too much out of this,” Alina cautioned as they walked into the Lantsov, the blast of tundra-cold air welcoming them back like an embrace.  
“But you have to admit you’ve thought about it,” Genya shot back.  
“I will admit to no such thing,” Alina responded prissily, making Genya giggle as they slid into their usual seats in the lecture hall. 

Large group rehearsal began at 3 and ran until 5. It had been drilled into most, if not all, of the students before they’d even been accepted to the program that on time was late, so everyone started arriving to warm up and tune around 2:30. Alina very studiously took out her folder and technique books and the costly metronome/tuner which had been part of a matching set that she and Mal bought for each other when they found out they’d both made it in, which he had lost his piece of in like three weeks somewhere in his swamp of a freshman dorm room and never found. Alina shook her head- his messiness used to seem endearing, and now it just seemed fucking slovenly. She concentrated on setting up, determined not to look over to where Zoya was surrounded by her clarinet and oboe minions, all laughing very loudly and affectedly. 

She was focused enough on trying to tune herself perfectly that she didn’t even hear someone coming up behind her.  
“Alina, can we talk?” Mal asked, and even though his voice was quiet Alina about jumped out of her skin.  
“No, I’m kinda busy right now,” Alina snapped, flipping open her technique book and trying to ignore the crescendo of panicky butterflies in her stomach. She absolutely hated confrontation, especially in public places.  
“I just want you to know that I’m so sorry,” Mal soldiered on, and Alina finally looked up at him.  
“I just want _you_ to know that this is neither the time nor the place for this conversation, and that I’d like for you to leave me alone now, as I’m already under a lot of pressure this week without adding comforting your childish ass for breaking my heart on top of it, since I know how very exhausting it is for you to deal with that,” Alina said nastily, finally giving voice to the angry thoughts she’d been trying to keep simmered down all week.  
Mal had the audacity to look surprised, big baby blue eyes opening wide and guileless.  
“Look, I came over here to try and apologize and -”

“Alina.” interrupted Aleksander suddenly, having appeared on her other side, holding a score. “For this soli in the beginning of movement two of the Tchaikovsky, I was thinking you could-”  
“We were in the middle of a private conversation,” Mal loudly talked over him. Aleksander gave him a chilly glance, one eyebrow raising in a clear expression of disdain.  
“No, it looked to me like you were just leaving,” Aleksander said dismissively before setting the score on Alina’s stand and crossing his arms.  
Mal had gone from looking surprised to looking incensed in the span of a moment, and had his mouth open to respond as Dr. Sokolova tapped him on the shoulder with her baton.  
“I don’t recall moving the percussion section to the front, Mr. Oretsev,” She said, glancing meaningfully at the unmanned timpani in the back as she mounted the podium.  
“Sorry, Professor,” Mal muttered, casting a resentful look at Aleksander before slinking away. 

“And Aleksander, your seat, if you please?” she continued, tying her long honey golden hair back.  
“Of course, Professor,” he responded courteously, picking the score back up and smiling sympathetically at Alina, who smiled weakly back. As pissed as she was with Mal for trying to use the 15 minutes of warm up before class to worm his way back into her good graces, she was kind of touched that Aleksander had intervened. She didn’t dare look over at the brass section, where Genya was no doubt doing a touchdown dance. The room fell silent almost immediately as Dr. Sokolova held up her hands.  
“We’ll start with Strauss today, block C,” She announced briskly, waiting for the flurry of turning pages to subside before launching into rehearsal. 

They ran through their pieces in performance order, which meant they went next to the Brahms and finished on the Tchaikovsky symphony. It was by far Alina's favorite piece this concert, the lush melody giving her chills, as always. She threw herself into the music, putting all thoughts of boys and other classes and scholarships out of her head, losing herself in the soaring theme. She noticed midway through that Aleksander was staring dead at her as he played, the music pouring from his violin somehow more passionate than every other member of the section combined. He closed his eyes as the theme came to its aching, exquisite conclusion, and Alina couldn’t help but feel he was playing to her, couldn’t help the bloom of bright red on her cheeks, couldn’t help but wonder how all the music in between them didn’t catch fire. 

Dr. Sokolova cut them off to give notes. “Winds, you have to be lighter through there, this whole thing is supposed to be as delicate as dandelion fluff. Percussion, too loud. The timpani is supposed to sound like a beating heart, not a construction zone. Aleksander, beautifully done but too soloistic. It would help if you would watch for my tempo instead of staring down the cellists.” Aleksander nodded his understanding and Alina very busily made a mark in her sheet music to avoid having to make eye contact with the 20 or so people who were now also staring at her. 

Once Dr. Sokolova dismissed them the room was abuzz with chatter, and Alina knew she was being self-conscious but she felt like there were a lot more looks being thrown her way. It didn’t help matters when Aleksander called over to her, “Want to practice until 8, then dinner?”  
She paused in the act of clearing off her stand and was spared having to answer on the spot by Dr. Sokolova interjecting, “So how is rehearsing going for you two? Feeling prepared for this Friday?”  
“We got a lot done over the weekend. The allegro still needs work, but that’s what we’ll be doing today.” Aleksander responded for them, glancing over at Alina as she nodded her assent. 

“That’s good to hear,” the professor responded, shutting her scores into her fashionable leather satchel and stepping down from the podium to lay a hand on Aleksander’s shoulder as he was fastening his case.  
Alina could tell she wasn’t meant to hear, but did nonetheless as Dr. Sokolova said quietly, “Don’t forget that you are representing not only this program, but me personally. It wouldn’t do to get distracted.” 

Aleksander and Alina’s eyes met for one searing moment over their stands as he responded, “I understand, Professor.”


	3. The Summer: Rinforzando

“If I toss it on stage, you have keep playing, ok?” Alina tried to crack a joke, but the real tension pressed through her voice like the split seam of an overworn jacket. 

“If you toss it on stage, I’ll have to sympathy puke, and I really don’t think I can deal with getting vomit out of this suit again,” Aleksander deadpanned, causing Alina to give a little huff of laughter that probably sounded to him like she was in the middle of choking to death in the darkness backstage. The current group was an uninspired woodwind trio, whom Aleksander was listening to intently from behind the closed doors of the shell. Alina paced a few tight laps before worrying that the clicking of her heels was too loud. 

“I don’t remember a damn thing,” she moaned, fully aware that she probably seemed childish to him, because of course he was just as cool and collected as if this were any random practice session. Alina had played for tough judges and large crowds before, but it had always been with the utter surety that came from all her good luck rituals with Mal. She had never performed at anything that mattered without first knocking elbows with him, without having a 6-second long hug from him, without, without… Alina took a deep breath, trying to steel herself. She realized Aleksander was looking at her with amusement, but it didn’t feel judgy or condescending. 

“You remember because you could play this in your sleep. You’ve more than amply prepared,” He remarked, leaning closer to her.  
“You’re going to do amazingly, Alina,” He added, expression becoming much more serious in the backstage gloom. Neither of them had leaned away from the other yet. 

“My only hope is not to embarrass you too badly,” Alina muttered, since taking compliments had never been her strong suit and saints, had her hair on the back of her neck always been so stifling hot?  
“Just think, after this we’ll have brunch, come back and see what the other groups know, then we’ll do large group in the evening, then we’ll all get smashed in a parking lot somewhere,” Aleksander responded comfortingly, running a hand up her arm from elbow to shoulder. Alina was surprised at herself for the jolt of _something_ that just that simple touch brought to life. She’d have been a liar of the worst sort if she said she hadn’t let her mind wander during rehearsals over the past week, watching his clever fingers dance over the neck of his violin, watching the expressions cross his face as he played in a way they didn’t during simple conversation, watching the strength and precision of his arms as he bowed a particularly aggressive passage, and _saints_ this was not a helpful train of thought. 

“So you’ll be coming to the party tonight?” Alina asked instead, trying to focus on something besides the ball of tense energy that seemed to have formed in her stomach. There was always a party after the summer competition, which all the faculty knew about but pretended not to, where the orchestra students got trashed on cheap vodka and danced to obnoxiously loud trap remixes of classical pieces in the back of the faculty parking lot, since the campus police never bothered to patrol that area. It was the only time the students as a group got to let loose, and it was always a night to remember, since it signaled the beginning of the fun part of the summer. After the competition ended, Dr. Sokolova was busy running the orchestra camp for high school students for two weeks, which the students served as staff for and assisted at sectionals, but apart from that there were no rehearsals and no responsibilities. Alina couldn’t wait. She and Genya had already made plans to stay up binging netflix until 3am and sleep until noon every day. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Aleksander responded, his smile becoming an anticipatory grin as the audience applauded for the lackluster trio and the stagehands opened the doors of the shell.  
“You’re going to do well. Just smile, and focus on the music,” He whispered to her, leaning dangerously closer for a quick heartbeat before turning to lead her onstage under the bright yellow lights. 

When Alina looked back on the performance, it was a blur. The only thing she remembered clearly was Aleksander’s nod as they began, his quartz gray gaze boring into her with an intensity that was almost frightening. Everything else was an anxiety-heightened smear of sensation, the distant muted ping of approval every time she nailed a tricky passage that had given her trouble, the high free feeling of nimbly winging her way through the piece, all in perfect harmony with the man beside her. She had always loved the feeling of being so into the music that your surroundings melted away, but this was the first time that feeling had included someone else. It was as though she and Aleksander were playing the same instrument, breathing from the same lungs, creating the notes with a connected set of four hands. When they finished the final phrase and stood to bow, Alina became aware of the audience again, which was a lot bigger than she’d thought it was when they started. She only had eyes for Aleksander, who was looking at her again with a triumphant smile. In that moment, Alina had never felt so successful, so alive, and all it took was one look from him to see that he felt the same way. 

No sooner had they stepped back into the darkness of the wings than Aleksander had swept her into a crushing hug. Alina, giddy, let herself lean into him. He smelled better than she’d ever noticed, and his chest was solid and strong under his suit jacket, his arms tight around her waist.  
“You were amazing,” he whispered, and Alina couldn’t stop the fluttering feeling that ignited somewhere in her chest as she felt his lips brush her ear for the barest second while he spoke.  
When they parted, Alina was certain from the ardent expression on his face that he would kiss her, her heartbeat lurching to an allegretto and her lips tingling in anticipation. But instead he took a further step back, countenance morphing back to an appropriate, collected smile. 

“A fine performance, Aleksander,” Dr. Sokolova said, standing behind them with crossed arms. Alina’s first thought was to wonder, guiltily, how long she’d been standing there, before becoming a little insulted. It wasn’t as though Aleksander had single-handedly carried the show.  
“Thank you, Professor. Alina has been a very good partner. I’m looking forward to dueting with her again,” Aleksander responded mildly.  
“Of course, Alina, this will have been your first time at this competition. Not too nerve-wracking, I hope?” Dr. Sokolova asked.  
“No, ma’am. I found it exhilarating.” Alina responded stoutly, ignoring the moment she had seriously considered pretending to faint backstage to avoid having to go on, her buzz of having done a great job and whatever shadowy almost-kiss moment she and Aleksander had just shared a little spoiled by her professor treating her like some wide-eyed ingenue. As though she hadn’t worked even harder than Aleksander for this, as if she didn’t deserve every bit of applause she’d received. 

“I’m glad you didn’t feel too pressured,” Dr. Sokolova replied, wearing the smile that Alina usually thought of as friendly and warm but seemed the opposite of those things in the blue light backstage. As the next group finished setting up and launched into a spirited Rachmaninoff piece, Alina followed Aleksander and Dr. Sokolova out into the hallway.  
“You were the last of our groups to perform, so we’re breaking for lunch. I know a fabulous French bistro downtown,” Dr. Sokolova announced, walking with them back to the warm up area where they’d stashed their cases. Alina didn’t envy the musicians still milling around looking a little sick as they desperately ran over fingerings. 

“That sounds wonderful,” Aleksander acceded. Alina tried to remind herself that it was only natural that Aleksander’s private lessons teacher would want to take him out to celebrate his successful performance, that she wouldn’t want to butt in, that he had just been trying to calm her down backstage when he’d laid out plans for the rest of their day that involved the two of them spending more time together, but it was still hard to smother the smarting sense of hurt. Because of course now that the competition was over, things would go back to the way they had been before the summer, with Aleksander perfect and inaccessible and completely unaware of Alina. No matter how many smouldering violin solos she thought he’d been playing to her. 

“Alina, would you like to join us?” Aleksander asked. He was even holding out his hand in an offer to carry her cello case. Her self-pitying inner monologue shut up in a hurry as she accepted. 

~ ~ ~

“I’m not gonna lie, that sounds pretty fucking weird,” Genya said from around a mouthful of pins. Alina was perched on the pink satin pouf that was floating precariously on a mountain of scarves and dated graphic t-shirts in front of the vanity in Genya’s room. Genya was undoing the tight, careful braid she’d arranged Alina’s hair into at 5am that morning in time for the bus ride to the competition, and redoing it into something more appropriate for the party, which she’d agreed to in return for Alina spilling all the tea on her afternoon with the concertmaster and director. And that worked out, because Alina was dying to talk to her about it. 

“Right? It was just a consistently uncomfortable vibe,” Alina agreed. Lunch with Aleksander and Dr. Sokolova had been fine, but Alina was regardless aware at every point that the two of them had a much longer, much better established relationship. Dr. Sokolova was full of charming anecdotes about other competitions she’d taken Aleksander to, reminiscences about how hard he’d worked on his pieces and the other groups he’d beaten out. It felt perpetually like the director was casually tossing out piecemeal explanations to the inside references that she herself kept bringing up, which effectively guaranteed that Alina didn’t have much to contribute to the conversation. She wasn’t sure if she was overreacting and misinterpreting what was actually, if viewed from a purely objective standpoint, a pretty standard afternoon of interaction between the professor of a world-renowned conservatory, her prize student, and a student she knew much less well. 

“But Aleksander really almost kissed you?” Genya asked thoughtfully, starting to comb through Alina’s wavy hair.  
“I mean. I think so.” Alina responded, wishing that she was less uncertain. Wishing that she wouldn’t see Aleksander at the party. Wishing that they were already there and chatting in some dimly lit corner. 

Genya gave her an exuberant squeeze.  
“For you to say you think he almost kissed you that means he was all but writing you a formal declaration of intent.” she crowed. Ordinarily Alina rolled her eyes a little at excitable Genya, who loved high drama and far-fetched romantic nonsense, but tonight, with the fat half moon looking bright and promising in the dark sky outside, she couldn’t quite bring herself to. 

“Ok, for makeup we should do a smoky eye, I know it’s a little heavier than you usually go in for but if you’re gonna be pulling the concertmaster while your scumbag ex watches sadly from the corner you should look like a queen while doing it,” Genya continued, pulling more eyeshadow palettes than Alina thought one person could ever use from somewhere within the general chaos of her vanity. Alina blushed and obligingly shut her eyes, the remembrance of that passionate look on his face backstage swimming unbidden behind her lids. 

Thirty minutes later, Genya and Alina were walking to the faculty lot arm in arm, a handle stashed in Genya’s bag. Ordinarily Alina’s self-esteem took a little bit of a hit when going out with Genya, since she always looked so devastatingly good. But tonight thoughts of gray eyes and maybe long fingers on all the skin exposed by her black tube top kept her too busy to even worry about the poor figure she surely cut next to her statuesque friend. 

The party was already in full swing when they arrived. The orchestra was a tight-knit group as a rule, simply because the heavy practice schedules more or less precluded meaningful relationships with anyone outside of it. This party was known for producing a disproportionate amount of the ill-advised hookups, noteworthy breakups, and general drama that kept the gossip mill going in their little community. Alina realized with a sudden souring of the bubbly feeling that had been sustaining her as she watched Zoya energetically grinding on Mal that she’d always been aloof from and entertained by all the relationship drama the hot summer night seemed to bring out of her peers, but that wasn’t the case this time. Genya, following her gaze, rolled her eyes and tugged her over towards the drinks table, already littered with half full handles and sticky bottles of mixers. 

Once they each had a drink, they swayed to the beat of the music, Genya looking like she was about to drop some sick dance moves, Alina feeling like she looked as if she was about to drop dead. Genya’s smile was as sharp as the wings of her eyeliner as she cheerfully ran off the four or so guys who immediately converged on her. Alina didn’t miss the dart of her friend’s eyes over to where the orchestra’s one bassoon player, David Kostyk, was sitting on a curb under a lamppost reading a book, apparently completely oblivious to his surroundings. 

“You know, you could go talk to him,” Alina suggested as quietly as she could over the boisterous noise.  
“I’m not going to leave you by your lonesome with your ex so shamelessly out here,” Genya responded. “Now if I had someone to leave you with…” she continued, beginning to purposefully search the crowd.  
“Girl stop, could you be more obvious?” Alina exclaimed, tugging insistently at her arm.  
“There he is,” Genya responded, a hint of that smug smile curling her lips, and Alina couldn’t help but look. 

Aleksander was standing over in one of the shadiest corners of the parking lot, chatting with Ivan, the principal double bass player.  
“You know, you could go talk to him,” Genya mimicked in a squeaky facsimile of Alina’s voice, smiling in the face of her resulting scowl.  
“I’m not going to just barge over there and interrupt his conversation,” Alina rebutted firmly.  
“Looks like you won’t have to, since he saw you and he’s already heading this way,” Genya responded, looking impressed.  
In search of anything to distract her from the tremolos racing up her spine, Alina took a pull of her drink, which as always Genya had made way stronger than it needed to be. 

“Alina,” Aleksander said, brushing one hand over her shoulder to get her attention and saints it was like her skin had never been properly touched before that moment, like his calloused fingertips were a brand, like the goosebumps that rippled over her body were a response made especially as a reaction to being touched by him. Mentally warning herself to get a grip, he’d only fucking tapped her on the shoulder, she turned to greet him. 

He closed the distance between them as he stepped in to embrace her. It was nothing like the excited squeeze that had passed between them earlier, but still one hand was delicately placed on the exposed small of her back and Alina had to stop herself from pressing against him, wondering when they’d made the transition from duet partners to people who hug when they see each other after being apart for a little over two hours. That hand stayed on her lower back, more firmly now, and Alina decided instantly that she was really, really ok with that as he smiled at Genya and introduced her to Ivan. Alina missed whatever Genya muttered to him, but she was shortly leading Ivan by the hand off to dance. Genya looked back, mouthing “LBD”, before being swallowed by the crush of bodies. 

“So how was the rest of your evening?” He asked, and it was normal, wasn’t it, to lean into a guy who put his arm around you at a party and was asking you questions and smiling at you like you were the only other person around?  
“Fine, just hung out with Genya. I’m not even gonna touch my cello tomorrow,” she responded happily, anticipating spending the day in her pajamas working on her academic classes in the comfort of her temperature-controlled apartment. 

“Got any time to hang out tomorrow afternoon? Dr. Sokolova said she’d be getting me the fall concert program sometime in the morning, and I’d love to go over it with you so we can pick another duet you’d feel comfortable with preparing for the winter recital,” Aleksander asked archly, and Alina casted about for something, anything, clever to say in response. Aleksander was always the first to know what pieces Dr. Sokolova was programming, with the section leaders usually finding out a week later. She could hear a voice that sounded suspiciously like Genya in the back of her head insisting that offering to go over the concert with her a week before everyone else so they could pick a duet was the equivalent of proposing and to just go ahead and close those few inches of space between them and press her lips to his… 

Alina realized that he was still waiting on a response, politely making no comment on what was surely the shellshocked expression on her face.  
“Absolutely,” she responded, and a week ago she would’ve ducked her head, flattered and a little embarrassed by the high regard implied by his suggestion, but tonight she held his gaze, returned his smile, and ran her hand up his arm from elbow to shoulder just as he’d done to her only a few hours previously. 

As bad as she was used to considering herself at reading people, there was no mistaking the look in his eyes, the edge of intensity to his smile. She let her cup slip from nerveless fingers, felt the liquid splash around her sandals, and didn’t really care because she needed that hand to rest on his shoulder because he was tilting her face up to his and tracing a pattern over the small of her back and Alina thought she hated public displays of affection but damn was she willing to make an exception for this. The spinning of her head had nothing to do with the vodka and everything to do with the fact that he was staring at her like kissing her was crucial to his continued survival and he was drawing closer and. . . 

“Alina,” Mal announced his presence way too loudly. The change that came over Aleksander’s face sent a shiver down Alina’s spine. It was lightning fast but it was a glimpse at someone different, someone _frightening_. The shiver was mainly of desire, with the added element of fear only making it more heady. But there would be plenty of time to unpack that new kink after dispatching Mal. Alina really did not want to become the gossip of the night.  
“You’re drunk,” Mal stated, which was rich because Alina could smell the fumes on his breath from a foot away.  
“I’m takin’ you.. Home.” he continued, shooting Aleksander a dirty look. 

“You’re making an ass of yourself. Go away,” Alina responded, as calmly and clearly as she knew how, digging her fingers into the fabric of Aleksander’s shirt. He had yet to take his arms from around her, a fact which Alina was becoming aware of as more heads started turning their direction.  
“You’re drunk, and he’s. . . .” Mal reiterated, brow furrowing as his gaze landed on Aleksander’s hand on her lower back.  
“He’s all over you,” He finished, a thunderhead scowl taking shape on his face, and that was one expression Alina had seen too many times to not know what was coming next. She reacted out of habit rather than intention, breaking out of Aleksander’s embrace and taking a step towards Mal before realizing what she was doing. Alina was usually always the one to hold Mal back from the rash decisions he was prone to making whenever he felt someone was treating her wrongly, a common fact of life throughout much of their childhood. It was a special kind of wrench, to realize that this was the first time he’d gotten up in arms in her defense in around a year, and that this time, it was neither needed nor appreciated. She’d used to idolize him for this protectiveness, but now, looking at the man in front of her whom she used to adore, all she felt was a rising sense of outrage. 

“I’m not drunk, and I’m sure your new girlfriend is looking for you,” Alina stated, fists balled at her sides.  
“He’s tryina take advantage of you, and I’m not gonna let him hurt you,” Mal insisted, moving to place a hand on her shoulder. Alina smacked it out of the air before it could land. She didn’t want to have to make the comparison between the way it felt to be touched by him and the way it felt to be touched by Aleksander.  
“Right, because the only reason a guy who isn’t you might want to talk to me is to try and take advantage of me.” Alina snapped, stung by his assumptions, not even able to consider a dignified way to bring up that Mal had very recently hurt her far more than Aleksander ever could. 

“Alina, I just don’t want you over here alone with him,” Mal said, voice lowering, soothing. The voice he used when he was trying to persuade her, the voice that came out when he thought she was being irrational and just needed to be talked down.  
“ _I don’t give a fuck what you want!_ ” Alina half-screamed.  
“I am not your property, Malyen Oretsev, and when you decided to shove your tongue down Zoya’s throat, you gave up a say in deciding who I hang out alone with,” she continued at a more appropriate decibel level, but the damage was already done. She spotted Genya trying to push her way through the crowd of onlookers. 

“Alina… c’mon, babe,” Mal said awkwardly, reaching out for her once more. Alina felt a set of cold hands settle on her shoulders, was surprised by the surge of relief that went through her as Aleksander spoke.  
“Perhaps you didn’t hear her. Alina asked you to go away.”  
“You stay out of this,” Mal snarled, full-force scowling once again, gaze bouncing from Aleksander’s eyes to his hands on Alina.  
“If you’re not enough of a gentleman to respect her wishes, I will enforce them on her behalf,” Aleksander warned, and Alina thought she’d heard him get sharp in the practice room, but that was nothing on this glacial, menacing tone. 

“I wish you’d fucking try, if you wanna throw hands we can fucking go,” Mal growled, squaring into a fighting stance.  
“My hands are far too valuable to waste on throwing with the likes of you,” Aleksander responded, supremely contemptuous as he moved to stand by her side, much-vaunted hands falling from her shoulders with a brush.  
“But if you continue harassing her, I’ll make the exception.”  
Hearing her own thoughts of what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes ago echoed out loud by Aleksander was just another droplet in the tidal wave of surreality that was Mal and Aleksander physically coming to blows over her. 

“Saints, stop, this is so ridiculous. Mal, please just go sleep this off,” Alina cried, spreading her arms between the two of them.  
“You heard her,” Aleksander sneered, and had he not made a “run along” gesture, the whole thing might’ve blown over. But he did, and Mal’s swing was clumsy but fast, catching Aleksander on the side of his face. He staggered, the collective gasp from their spectating peers suddenly the loudest thing in the parking lot as the music cut off. 

“Mal what the _fuck?!_ ” Alina shrieked, shoving him away from Aleksander. But when she turned to ask him if he was all right, he wasn’t on the ground. In the handful of heartbeats it had taken her to turn around Aleksander had tackled Mal, pulling him into a chokehold. 

“Do not ever touch me again,” he hissed, Mal’s face reddening rapidly.  
“You are to leave Alina alone, are we clear?” Mal was purpling, gasping for breath as he nodded, clawing at Aleksander’s arm. Aleksander shook him, once, before releasing him and stepping back, running a hand through his hair as Mal coughed on the asphalt.  
Alina, eyes huge and hand over her mouth, met Aleksander’s gaze. The bruise on his face was already blossoming purple. 

“Never, in all my years at this school, have I witnessed such a disgraceful scene,” Voice whipcrack sharp in the soft silence of the night, Dr. Sokolova strode into the midsts of the students. It seemed not even the crickets were willing to make a sound at that moment.  
“Brawling in parking lots, Mr. Morozova? You should be ashamed of yourself. I came out here to share the news with all of you at once that we placed first for the seventh consecutive year in large group evaluations, and that you yourself won top prize in small group, and here I find you engaged in physical altercations with other students. I won’t even mention the alcohol I can smell from here.” 

“I have no excuse, Professor.” Aleksander responded, shoulders squared.  
“It was my fault,” Alina blurted before she could think better of it. Dr. Sokolova’s cool, assessing gaze pinned her in place, but Alina held her ground. She’d just placed first in the summer competition, the payoff of months of hard work, and if she was brave enough to perform on that stage without running, she was brave enough not to let Aleksander take the blame for this.  
“Aleksander was just trying to help me out,” she added, chin up. 

“Pray do tell me what help you needed that necessitated a scuffle,” Dr. Sokolova inquired, arms crossed over her chest.  
Alina was in the middle of stammering out a response as Mal chose that moment to vomit, loudly and wetly, on the ground behind them. Aleksander closed his eyes, lips flattening into a thin line.  
Dr. Sokolova looked somehow even less impressed. 

“Mr. Morozova, we will be discussing this in detail at your lesson tomorrow. I expect better from you.” She said crisply, but as she turned to leave she swept a glance over Alina too. It might’ve just been her anxiety after having two emotionally charged confrontations right after each other but she got the distinct feeling Dr. Sokolova was letting her know she held her responsible for drawing Aleksander into a fight, not that she expected better from her too. 

The students dispersed pretty quickly after that, little groups buzzing with whispers. Alina felt a flaming blush prickle up from her neck all the way to her scalp- this evening was going to be picked over in minute detail for the next two months at least. To her surprise, Aleksander reached over and took her hand.  
“I appreciate you speaking up. Are you all right?” He asked, gray eyes all softness and concern.  
“Yeah, I’m ok. This is all just.. wild.” Alina responded, daring a gaze back at Mal, who was dusting himself off. Zoya stood watching, a shrewd look on her face, before descending on him in a loud flurry of showy caresses. Alina turned away.  
“Dr. Sokolova’s not going to be too mad at you, right?” She asked a little timidly. The bruise on his face was really dark.  
“I’ve been in hotter water with her before.” He said ruefully, probing at his cheek. 

“When?” Alina asked against her better judgement, because he was pulling her along by the hand and she wanted to keep talking with him.  
“I can’t recall a specific instance at the moment but I’m sure there has to be something,” Aleksander admitted, smiling a little, drawing her back towards the lights of the dorm. He led them around to one of the side entrances since the rest of the students were all trickling in through the front door, and Alina knew she was not imagining things, they were absolutely looking over at them with undisguised interest. 

They paused for a moment, and Aleksander still hadn’t let go of her hand, and for one terrifying, heart-pounding, glorious moment, Alina thought he would invite her back to his room. But instead, something dark in his eyes, he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek before holding the door open for her.  
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, hooking a strand of her hair behind her ear.  
“You can count on it,” she confirmed, before stretching on her tiptoes to place a kiss as light as a snowflake on his finely cut cheekbone. 

The look on his face as he’d watched her walk away- naked want- was all Alina could think about as she tried to fall asleep.


End file.
